


April

by ParadiseParrot



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:24:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadiseParrot/pseuds/ParadiseParrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>t's not easy to try and be an emotionless husk. I'm not even sure I'm good at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	April

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot is kind of out of the blue and just discusses a point of view on April's behaviour in the show. Because she doesn't do much, after all. I'm not even sure I believe it all myself, but it's interesting to check out different avenues for a character.

Sometimes I hear them talking about me.

Leo especially, because he's always worried about the state of the family and because he's something of a gossip. Mostly with Raph, because he can be a decent confidante. Sometimes with Splinter, who tells him to leave me alone. That I'll come into my own.

"She can be so … I dunno," I hear him say softly. He thinks I'm asleep. Really, my ear is pressed to the door to catch his words from down the hall. "It's like she's not all there, you know? Before I didn't really notice, but especially lately, it's hard to tell what she's even thinking. If she even cares."

His words mean well, because Leo loves me and is worrying. But they sting anyway, sharp and hot.

Things have been really bad. Even before I met them and the Kraang turned the world on its ear, things had been shitty.

That's the only word that really articulates how my life has been, really. Shitty. Not horrendous, I'm not starving or lacking for things to do. But definitely not okay. 'Shitty' really encompasses the track my life has been on for ages. I haven't really bothered to turn it off course.

Real contentedness is about as attainable as that month-long trip to Hawaii Dad's dreaming of. Or the turtles going into high school with all the other kids our age.

Dad and I clash a lot. That's the long story short.

It was only when he was taken from me when I realized how deep his loss ran, like when the nurse took too much blood at the hospital and I felt too-cold, like I was floating. We argued about my grades (flunking half, coasting the other), because he had a doctorate and I, his feisty daughter, could easily reach my full potential if I just finished my homework and started writing for those scholarships. He said he'd found me a good tutor for the SAT. The SAT is crap anyway.

I would look down at the math book he'd put in front of me. I'm good at tuning people out. Usually I'm good at math too, but these times the numbers would just swim in front of my eyes and I'd feel a little like I was floating. It was easier to be out of body than it was to keep listening to him fill the flat with complaining.

Dad would tell me I was disassociating and that it was unhealthy. I would look up, as if to sass him, but the words would never come out and I would look away again. Some psychologist he is.

But when the Kraang took him away, he was all I could think about. We were all each other had, though. Kirby and April O'Neil, the lonely father-daughter pair who had lost the mother who kept them together and the good natures that kept them willing to go out in the world.

This is not an encouraging environment to come home to after day after day of taunting at school. I'm pretty well convinced that children are incapable of friendship without cruelty. Or maybe it's just me. The turtles, having never had to deal with the hell that is school, are much kinder. Their teasing is loving.

I fall into the same habits when I became friends with the boys. I feel sorry that they have to deal with me sometimes, because I can see how they really do consider me a sister. Donnie's affections run deeper than that, but he's never anything but sweet to me, never too overbearing or forcible. I can awkwardly laugh off his more embarrassing moments. And when the excitement is over, I'm back to staring off into space or watching cartoons with Mikey. I'm not much for anything.

So that's why Leo whispers about me to Raph, who listens to his worries. Raphael is always a little more patient before bed, especially when Leo is agitated.

"Try not to worry about her," he tells Leo. "It's not your job to worry about how much emotion she shows, anyway. Maybe it's because your annoying ass is smothering her with concern, anyway."

They finally leave, and I sit on the bed. This is how I've always done it, after all. Turn inward, get tongue-tied when people approach me about my issues. Pretend I don't have any issues.

Training with sensei is better. Sensei doesn't get into fights or ask me how I'm feeling, which is a wonderful change from a psychologist father. He teaches me katas and breathing exercises. We're working through meditation. It's more invested than I've felt for years, about anything. When I escaped from Karai, I felt that hot anger and it all came pouring out—and it worked. For once.

There's a knock on my door, eager and rapid. Mikey.

"Come in," I say. He pushes the door open, mask loose around his neck and his grin shining. I can't help but smile back.

"I just came in to say goodnight!" he chirps. "You're okay in my room, right? Leo even helped me clean for you! He said my floor was too sticky for guests."

"It's great, Mikey." Poor guy. He's sweet, always teasing me or getting into what I'm doing. I try to be a little less cold for him so he has something to be in tune with. It must be hard to get a handle on the chi of someone who keeps her brain empty and cool. I'm like an old pantry shelf.

"Alright. Sleep well!" he closes the door behind him, off to Donnie's room where he's bunking. I shut off the lamp and lie down, looking at the water stains on Mikey's ceiling.

Maybe when we get Dad back I can fix things. There must be a way.


End file.
